


I.O.U.

by Emospritelet



Series: Sprite's Festive Ficlets [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Arguing, Chair Sex, Christmas, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Innuendo, Lacey makes a deal, Light Angst, Making Out, Making Up, Morning After, Sass, Smut, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-09-16 09:35:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16951548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emospritelet/pseuds/Emospritelet
Summary: It's almost Christmas and Lacey is desperate for cash.  She heads to the pawn shop to try to appeal to Mr Gold's better nature.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> @elf-kid2 prompted: "Lacey has a bunch of IOU's from pool and poker games... And a lot of difficulty getting people to actually pay up. She decides to try and sell to debts to Mr. Gold."
> 
> @thatravenclawbitch prompted: "Wow, I had no idea the Grinch was a real person"

Lacey stomped up to the door of the pawn shop, taking a deep breath and raising her chin. It was the only shop on the street that didn’t have some sort of festive lights or decorations in the window, but she tried not to let that put her off. It was the day before Christmas Eve, and even a miserable bastard like Mr Gold had to have a little Christmas spirit lurking in him somewhere. Deep down.

Standing on the doorstep wasn’t achieving anything except freezing her tits off, so she pushed open the door and marched in. The shop seemed empty, but the bell above the door had tinkled, which she knew would draw its owner from the depths of his lair. Sure enough, after a moment the heavy brocade curtain that hid the back room from view was pushed aside, and Mr Gold walked out to stand behind the counter. He was dressed in a slim-fitting charcoal grey suit, a fuchsia silk shirt beneath it and a black tie. It was unusual to see him in something so bright; he always wore suits and silk shirts, but the shirts were usually dark red or midnight blue or, if he was in a particularly foul mood, black. He suited the deep pink he wore now, and for a moment she almost told him so.

“Miss French,” he said softly. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to sell something,” she said bluntly, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yes?”

“Yeah.”

She reached inside the pocket of her little coat, pulling out a battered envelope stuffed with scraps of paper and slapping it on the counter. Gold looked at it, then back at her.

“What’s this?”

“A bunch of debts,” she said. “Thought you might be interested in collecting ‘em.”

There was silence for a moment, and he settled back on one heel, hands clasped over the gold handle of his cane.

“You want to sell me a bunch of I.O.U.s?” he said, in a level tone. “What is this, pool games you’ve lost, or something more sordid?”

“Poker, mostly,” she said, and Gold’s eyes narrowed.

“Gambling debts,” he said flatly. “Are you serious?”

“Well - yeah,” she said. “There’s like two thousand bucks I’m owed right here.”

“Well, good luck in collecting it,” he said. “It’s not something I have any interest in.”

Lacey stamped her foot.

“Oh come _on_!”

“I think not, he said coldly. “It’s difficult enough to enforce gaming debts even when a reputable casino is involved. Proving the validity of the scribbled admissions of Storybrooke’s drunks is not how I wish to spend my time.”

Lacey scowled.

“So I’m two grand in the hole, that’s what you’re saying?”

“I’m saying if you’re stupid enough to agree to Play Now, Pay Later terms that’s your own fault,” he said coldly. “If you’re that desperate for money I suggest a more certain outcome than a poker game with the Rabbit Hole clientele.”

“Like _what_?” she asked. “I work all the hours God sends and I’m _broke_.”

“If you spend your evenings drinking whisky and playing pool, I’m not surprised.”

“Hey, that’s Thursday and Friday nights _only_!” she protested. “And it’s how I earn extra cash!”

Gold picked up the I.O.U.s and let them flutter to the counter.

“Clearly not,” he said dryly. “What do you need the money for, anyway?”

“It’s Christmas,” she said.

“So?”

 _“So.”_ She threw up her arms. “Christmas? As in presents for friends? As in eating way too much and drinking way too much and having a good time? I can’t do all that with no cash.”

He showed his teeth.

“Then I suggest you tighten your belt accordingly.”

Lacey sank back on her heels.

“Wow,” she said flatly. “I had no idea the Grinch was a _real person_.”

“Reality can leave a bitter taste in the mouth, I find,” he said, and she stamped her foot.

“Gold, please, I’m desperate!”

Mr Gold sighed, rolling his eyes, but when he looked back at her there was a gleam in them, a glint of dark light.

“Desperate, are you?”

He voice was lower, almost a purr, and Lacey blinked. _Well. Wonders will never cease. Don’t tell me it could be that easy._

She leaned on the counter, well aware that he would have an excellent view of her cleavage if he just dropped his eyes a little.

“Yeah,” she said. “You - uh - interested in helping me out?”

Gold held her eyes, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“How much do you want?” he asked, his voice still that low, silky purr, and Lacey pursed her lips.

“Two grand, I told you,” she said, and he shook his head.

“I’ll give you fifteen hundred,” he said, and she licked her lips.

“Okay,” she said. “When do you want to do it?”

He smiled at her, his eyes glittering, and then pushed away from the counter, heading for the back room.

“You can start tomorrow evening,” he said. “Two hours every night, at fifteen dollars an hour until the debt is paid.”

Lacey blinked.

“Huh?”

Gold turned to face her.

“Cleaning, of course,” he said. “The shop gets dusty, and it’s difficult for me to do the windows and the high shelves.”

“What?”

He looked puzzled, but that tiny smile was still there quirking the corners of his mouth.

“My dear Miss French, what on _earth_ did you think I meant?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: 15 “You’re wearing that to the Christmas party?”

Lacey rummaged through the bottom drawer of her dresser, muttering under her breath as she did so.  Eventually she found what she wanted, and tugged it out, a mass of red and green cloth and white fur.  She tossed it onto the bed behind her, straightening up and opening her underwear drawer.

“Hey,” said Ruby, from the doorway.  “I thought we’d head out about eight tonight, okay?”

“Uh-huh.”  Lacey held up a pair of stockings, eyes narrowed as she checked for ladders.  “Sure.  No problem.”

“Did you get the money from Gold?”

Lacey sighed, turning to face her.

“Some of it,” she said.  “He wouldn’t buy the debts off me, said there’s no way he could collect ‘em.  I got him to hand over six hundred bucks, though.”

“How come?”

Lacey grumbled under her breath.

“Agreed to clean his damn shop,” she said sourly.  “Fifteen bucks an hour.”

“Okay, so that’s…”  Ruby’s eyes rose up as she did some mental arithmetic.  “Forty hours.  Well, that’s not so bad.”

“Yeah.”  Lacey grimaced.  “He offered me fifteen hundred, but I didn’t think I could stand one hundred hours of dusting knick-knacks.  Girl’s gotta have  _some_ social life, you know?”

“Well, at least you have some Christmas cash,” said Ruby lightly.

Lacey grunted, turning back to her underwear drawer.

“I offered to sleep with him,” she muttered, and heard a sort of spluttering noise from behind her.

“You did  _what_?”

Lacey turned, to find Ruby staring at her incredulously.

“It wasn’t my fault!” she insisted.  “I - I thought that’s what he was hinting at!  He got all sort of weird and suggestive and kind of sexy and - and I thought…”

She shrugged, and Ruby folded her arms, raising an eyebrow.

“Gold was sexy?” she said flatly.   _“Gold?”_

“Uh…”  Lacey chewed her lip.  “Yeah?”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Well, he kind of had this glint in his eyes,” said Lacey wretchedly.  “And his voice went all low and sultry and his accent was stronger and he was  _grinning_  at me.  And he had that pink shirt on.  I mean...”

She threw her hands up helplessly, and Ruby’s mouth fell open, eyes wide.

“Oh my  _God_!” she said.  “You  _want_ to sleep with him!”

“I - no!”  Lacey tried to look shocked, but eventually gave up and shrugged.  “Okay, maybe a little.”

Ruby burst out laughing, and Lacey glared at her.

“Look, forget about that for the moment,” she said.  “You got any stockings that don’t look as though they’ve been chewed by a bunch of rats?”

“Yeah, hang on, let me look.”  Ruby turned to leave, but glanced over her shoulder.  “Hold on, what’s this?”

She picked up the outfit Lacey had tossed onto the bed, a short dress in holly-green, white fur lining the hem of the skirt.  It left little to the imagination when it was on, as Lacey well knew.  She had bought it the year before, as a bit of fun for Christmas morning with her then-boyfriend, before finding out the piece of shit was cheating on her and dumping him the day before Christmas Eve.  The sexy elf costume had been shoved to the bottom of the drawer and all but forgotten.  Until she had decided that she wanted to teach Gold a lesson.

“You’re wearing  _that_ to the Christmas party?” asked Ruby, looking amused, and Lacey grinned.

“I’m wearing that tonight to clean Mr Gold’s shop,” she said.  “If he thinks he’s getting one over on me he can kiss my ass.”

“Well, he’ll certainly get a good view of it,” remarked Ruby.  “You sure you want to do this?”

Lacey tossed her smallest thong onto the bed, and grinned.

“I’m thinking I’ll need to reach a bunch of high shelves and bend over a lot,” she said.  “He’s gonna have to hold the ladder.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @mrs-stiltskin prompted: 35: "This should help to warm your hands up"

Lacey found that her sexy elf costume left even less to the imagination than she remembered.  Ruby had given her a pair of new stockings, which were threatening to fall down her legs as she walked.  Her four-inch heels weren’t helping, and she shivered as she stopped to hike the stockings up yet again, cold air whistling around her legs.  She had her coat on over the top, which thankfully covered her butt, and she had tied up her hair on top of her head. In short, Gold wouldn’t realise what was about to hit him until she took off the coat.

She could see him through the window of the shop, her breath misting the glass as she peered in.  He was standing behind the counter, running one long finger down the page of one of his ledgers and nodding to himself.  The townsfolk all knew about the ledgers; he had a dozen or so, in which he kept the records of rent payments, outstanding loans and pawned items awaiting collection.

Lacey had always managed to make rent herself, but she was aware of many others who had come up short, and had to appeal to his better side.  The general consensus was that he didn’t have one.  She didn’t think he was so bad; he was fair, at least, and he wasn’t a creep.  Which was more than could be said for most guys in the town.

Gold picked up his pen, making a note in the ledger and closing it, his hair bouncing around his cheekbones and gleaming in the light.  She pursed her lips.  It looked soft, the grey hairs shining silver, and she wondered how it would feel to run her hands through it.  He was wearing a purple shirt, and although she missed the fuchsia one, it still suited him, his tie dark blue.  The tip of his tongue swept across his lips as he picked up the ledger, and she felt that familiar low-down tug of arousal at the sight of it.

Her thoughts had strayed more than once to what it might feel like to kiss him, and his teasing had only made her more curious.  After all the times their paths had crossed she thought she had a good idea of what his personality was like, and she wondered which aspect of it would come out during sex. Would he be focused and meticulous, taking his time and exploring her with tongue and fingers to find out what made her scream?  Or would he be rough and ruthless, pinning her to the floor with his hands on her wrists as he chased his own pleasure?  She wasn’t sure which was more appealing.

The wind caressed her legs, making her shiver, and she remembered why she was there.  She grasped at the door handle, pushing open the shop door and hearing the bell tinkle merrily above.  Gold looked up from behind the counter, his eyes narrowing.

“You’re late,” he said coolly.

“What?” She checked her watch.  “Like two minutes!”

“That’s two minutes of my time, Miss French,” he said.  “And my time is valuable.  I suggest rather than standing there glaring at me, you proceed to earn back the money I’ve already given you.”

“Give me a chance to catch my bloody breath!” she snapped.  “My hands feel as though they’re about to fall off - it’s freezing out there!”

Gold sent her a crocodile’s grin, dark eyes glinting.

“Well,” he said.  “This should help to warm your hands up.”

He reached beneath the counter, and withdrew a feather duster, holding it up between finger and thumb. His teeth gleamed in a somewhat predatory smile, the light shining on gold where one of them had been replaced.

“If you could use some of the energy you’re currently employing to glare at me on clearing the dust?” he asked pleasantly.  “I believe we agreed two hours.”

“I’m going to a party at Granny’s at eight,” she said stiffly.

“No, you’re going at—”  He checked his pocket watch.  “—eight-oh-four.”

_He has a pocket watch.  He has a pocket watch that he actually_ uses _.  Of course he does…_

“Are you timing me to the goddamn  _second_?”

“Eight-oh-five,” said Gold evenly, and Lacey growled under her breath, reaching over to snatch the duster from him.

“Excellent,” he said.  “You’ll find the steps behind the counter.  If you could start at the shelves near the windows and work back, please.  I also have some glassware that needs cleaning, but that can wait until later.”

“Yes Mr Gold,” she said sweetly, and his eyes narrowed again, but he nodded and went into the back room.

Lacey quickly retrieved the wooden steps and set them down next to the set of shelves nearest the windows.  She then flipped the sign on the door to  _Closed_  and turned the lock.  Shrugging out of her coat, she adjusted the thin straps, ensuring her breasts hadn’t decided to jump out of the fur-trimmed cups, and tugged the tiny skirt straight.  It only just covered her buttocks, and if she were to bend even an inch he would see everything.  Smirking to herself, she flourished the feather duster like a weapon, and climbed up the steps, reaching up to flick at the knick-knacks arranged on the top shelf.

“Miss French, I—”

Gold’s voice cut off, and Lacey bit back a grin.  She could see him out of the corner of her eye, and bent forwards a little, noting how his eyes flicked up and down the length of her legs.

“What on  _earth_ are you wearing?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: 4: "I shouldn't be this attracted to an elf"

Mr Gold led what most people would consider a quiet life.  He carried out the careful restoration of antiques in the back room of his pawn shop in between dealing with customers and those wishing to pawn valuable items.  He went on his rounds to collect the rent owed on his many properties, and once work was over, he went home to his large and comfortable house, cooked himself something to eat and drank a glass of wine.  He would end his evenings sipping whisky in one of the more comfortable chairs in his study while listening to music and reading from his extensive collection of books.  Beyond the inevitable, pointless clashes with those who weren’t inclined to pay him what he was owed, his life was ordered, calm, uneventful.  Which was why walking into his shop and finding Lacey French in an outfit that shouldn’t be worn outside the bedroom, if at all, was so disconcerting.

It was a dress, if one applied the term in the loosest possible sense, he supposed.  A babydoll thing in cheap dark green velvet with white faux fur trimming the hem and the tops of the cups that hugged her breasts.  Three gold buttons marched in a line down the front, and the dress flared out, the skirt just skimming the tops of her thighs.  Beneath it her legs seemed to go on forever, black lace-top stockings clinging to them.  Her small feet were up on their toes, black patent pumps with an ankle strap and ridiculous heels making her taller than usual.  Her hair was tied up on the top of her head, her pale shoulders bare except for thin straps that appeared to be the only things holding up the poor excuse for a dress.  He thought she was probably freezing.

“What on  _earth_ are you wearing?” he asked, and she turned her head to face him, red lips pouting.

“Hey, Mr Gold,” she said, her voice a little lower than normal.  “I didn’t see you there.”

He was silent for a moment, fingers tightening a little on the handle of the cane as he nodded to her.

“If you were concerned about getting dust on your clothing, I’d have lent you something old to wear,” he said.  “There was no need to strip naked, you must be freezing.”

“Oh, but this is the outfit I always wear to clean in,” she said lightly.

She flourished the duster to prove it, bending over a little so that the dress rose up and exposed small, firm buttocks.  There was no underwear that he could see, but he suspected she wore a thong.  It would be a tiny thing, probably black lace, just large enough to cover the soft cleft between her legs.  Just thin enough that he would be able to see if she was wet.  He felt his cock twitch in his pants, and tightened his jaw.  She was teasing him, that was obvious.  Trying to get a rise out of him - in more ways than one - so she could giggle about it with Miss Lucas afterwards.  He admired her spirit, but he certainly had no intention of being the butt of jokes at Granny’s Diner.

“Try not to die of hypothermia,” he said abruptly, and stalked off to the back room, shoving the curtain aside and letting it cut off the view behind him.

He could still feel the pull of arousal, low in his groin, and he shook his head, crossing to the cupboard and taking out the whisky bottle he kept there.  He poured himself a measure, taking slow sips as he paced back and forth, cane clicking on the floor.  The curtain may have cut off all views of the shop, but he could still see her in his mind’s eye, petite and perfect, with slender, shapely legs that he could imagine being wrapped around his waist while he tugged that little thong aside and—

He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a gulp of whisky and making himself cough.

“I shouldn’t be this attracted to an elf,” he muttered under his breath.

His toe nudged the trash bin, and he frowned as he saw the slips of paper she had dropped on his desk, which he had since tossed into the bin.  I.O.U.s.  Ridiculous to think that any of the Rabbit Hole knuckle-draggers would ever pay her what was owed.  She must indeed have been desperate to come to him and try to sell them on.

“Oh Mr Go-old!”  Lacey’s sing-song voice made him start.  “I need to reach the back of this shelf and it’s a little high.  Could you come hold the ladder?  If I don’t get this done tonight it’ll have to wait until tomorrow!”

Gold sighed.  _Two hours each night of her in one ridiculous outfit after another?  I think not._

“A moment,” he called.  “I just have to make a call.”

He bent to gather the slips out of the bin, setting them down on the workbench, and dug in his pocket for his phone.  It rang once before being picked up, and Gold smiled a little at the familiar voice on the other end.

“Ah, Mr Dove,” he said.  “I have an assignment for you.  Double the usual rate for swift resolution.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: 9: "But I've been such a good girl"

Once Gold had given Dove his instructions, he gathered up the I.O.U. slips and tucked them into the inside pocket of his jacket, reaching for his whisky and taking a drink.

“Mr Gold, I seriously could use a strong pair of hands out here!  I’m bent over as far as I can go!”

Lacey’s voice was bright and cheerful, with a fake innocence that made him sigh and roll his eyes to the ceiling.

“A moment,” he said.  “If you can’t reach the back of the shelves, get down and move on to the next.”

“But then I won’t have given you what you wanted!”

He could almost  _see_ the pout she was no doubt making, and he wondered if she had thought up an entire list of suitably innuendo-laden sentences to use on him.

“It’s so _hard_!” she insisted.  “I’m gonna need you to come quickly!”

Gold growled under his breath, slamming down his whisky glass, shaking his hair back from his face and stomping through to the shop.  Lacey was teetering on the top of the wooden steps, bent over with her delightful rear sticking up in the air and one leg raised as she reached out with the feather duster.  She turned her head a little to grin at him, flicking the duster.  It made her breasts bounce in their fur-trimmed cups, and he pretended not to notice, or to think about how she might look on her hands and knees on his bed.  His growing erection made that an almost impossible task.

“You’re gonna kill yourself!” he snapped, striding forwards.  “Get down from there!”

“I’m only doing what you asked.”  She pouted prettily, lips full and red.  “You ordered me to clean.  It’s not my fault everything in here is so - dirty.”

Her voice had lowered again, become breathy and full of promise, and her eyes sparkled.  Gold licked his lips, telling himself not to fall for her teasing.

“Well, then you’ll have to return tomorrow and carry on, won’t you?” he snapped.  “Perhaps wearing something more suited to the task at hand.”

“Tomorrow’s Christmas Day!” she objected.

_Oh.  So it is._

“I don’t have to open the shop in order for you to clean it, now do I?” he said, and she sighed.

“But I’ve been such a good girl…”

Gold gritted his teeth.

“I have no desire to take you to the hospital with a broken bloody neck!” he snapped, reaching the steps and glaring up at her.  “Get down, now!”

“I see,” she said.  “No cleaning the shelves, huh?  Floor-level stuff only.  You want me to get on my knees and - and take it.”

“Miss French, so help me—”

Lacey made a disappointed noise, but straightened up with a sigh.

“Okay,” she said resignedly.  “If you  _really_  want me to go down, then I guess—”

She cut off whatever suggestive thing she had been about to say with a shriek of alarm as she wobbled and fell.  Gold reached up instinctively, dropping his cane.  He managed to catch her, but took the weight on his bad leg by accident, and tumbled to the floor, cracking his head on the polished wood and sending a lance of pain through his leg.  Lacey slumped onto his chest, gasping with the impact.  She was no real weight, but the hard landing still knocked the breath from his lungs, and for a moment he lay there, the pain in his leg making him want to scream.

Lacey shifted against his chest, getting her hands underneath her and pushing herself up.  Her hair was starting to come loose from its bun and curl around her face, and her eyes were wide with shock and what looked like concern.  He was in so much pain he barely noticed that her breasts were perilously close to slipping the constraints of their cups.

“Ah, fuck, I’m so so sorry!” she exclaimed.  “Mr Gold, are you alright?”

“No,” he said coldly, and she scrambled up, brushing herself off.

“I’m so sorry!” she said again.  “I - I guess I overbalanced.”

“I wonder why,” he said dryly.  “Are you done trying to prove a bloody point?”

Lacey swallowed hard, looking guilty.

“What do you mean?”

“You know very well what I mean.”

He reached for his cane, getting it under himself with some difficulty and using it to lever himself up.  His leg was agony, but there was no way he was about to tell her that.  He brushed a little dust from his suit, flicking at it so that he wouldn’t have to look at her.  When he finally met her eyes she was standing with her arms folded, covering herself as much as she could, her cheeks a little flushed.

“You can go,” he said, his voice cold.  “Return on the twenty-seventh, and for fuck’s sake wear something more appropriate.”

He made his way to the back room, trying not to wince at every step.  It was going to be a night for the strong painkillers, it seemed.

“Mr Gold?” called Lacey from behind him, and he stopped, keeping his back to her.

“I really am sorry,” she said, and to his surprise she sounded it.

“Enjoy your Christmas, Miss French,” he said evenly, and pushed the curtain aside, slinking into the back room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: 7: “No no, the antlers are essential!”
> 
> 12: “It looks like a bunch of Santa’s elves got wasted in here.”

Lacey watched Gold limp through to the back room, and chewed her lip, feeling guilty.  It was very obvious that he was in a lot of pain, and equally obvious that he was trying to hide it.  She regretted teasing him so much; it had been fun to an extent, but she had meant to give him an awkward boner, not cause him more pain than he already had to put up with.  For a moment she considered going through to the back room and seeing if there was anything she could do to help, but she suspected that he wouldn’t want her in there seeing him deal with the pain he was suffering.

She looked down at herself, at the ridiculous sexy elf outfit which her boobs had, by some miracle of gravity, not popped out of.  Lacey shook her head, grabbing her coat to cover herself.   _Stupid thing to do.  What did you think was gonna happen anyway?  He wasn’t exactly gonna carry you into the back room and show you a good time._

She sighed, tugging the coat around herself.  It wasn’t even seven o’clock.  She had plenty of time to go home, get changed into something decent and get over to Granny’s.  There was still a Christmas Eve party to attend, after all.

* * *

By the time she reached Granny’s the party was already in full swing, raucous laughter breaking up the sound of Christmas music as she trudged through the snow to the door.  She had discarded the elf costume in favour of a cowl-necked red sweater dress.  It was short and clung to her curves, but was modest enough to seem almost tame as far as her usual outfits went.  Lacey didn’t care; it was cute, comfortable, and she looked good.  It definitely wasn’t as though there was anyone at Granny’s she wanted to impress, anyway.

The diner was warm and humid, party-goers clustered in groups of three and four, drinking and laughing and nibbling at the bite-sized treats set out on plates.  Someone appeared to have been enthusiastic with the decorations; large plastic snowmen were stationed at the corners of the room, snowflakes made of silver foil hung from the ceiling, and fake snow mixed with glitter stuck to her boots as she walked.  Coloured lights were strung all around the bar and between the light fittings, and boughs of holly and sprigs of mistletoe dangled over the crowds beneath.  Granny appeared to be dressed as Mrs Claus, bustling around with trays of drinks and shouting at people to get out of her way.  It was wonderfully chaotic, and Lacey couldn’t help smiling.

Ruby waved at her from the other side of the room, in a tight black skirt and red top, a pair of antlers on a headband over her shiny dark hair.  The antlers appeared to have red lights on them, marching up and down in time to the music, and Ruby grinned as Lacey approached.

“Oh good, you’re here!” she said happily.

“Yeah, Mr Gold let me go early,” said Lacey, looking around.  “When did you do all this?  It looks like a bunch of Santa’s elves got wasted in here.”

“Oh, Leroy and his buddies helped out,” said Ruby carelessly.  “You want a drink?”

Lacey followed her to the bar, where Ruby started making her a whisky sour.

“How’d it go with Gold?” she asked.  “You give him a heart attack?”

“No,” said Lacey gloomily.  “More like a broken leg.”

“Huh?”

Lacey explained what had happened, and Ruby curled her lip.

“Is he still gonna let you work to pay back the money?” she asked, and Lacey shrugged.

“I don’t know.  He told me to go back on the twenty-seventh, but I don’t know.  If he doesn’t I’m screwed.  I can’t raise that kind of money waiting tables.”

“Well, if he said you could come back, maybe it’ll be okay,” said Ruby.  “He must know it was an accident.”

“He knows I was trying to get a rise out of him and being a bloody idiot,” said Lacey.  “That’s what he knows.”

“Well, you never know,” said Ruby.  “Maybe he’ll come to the party.”

“Gold?” said Lacey flatly.  “At a party?”

“You never know.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“Well, if you’re looking for extra cash,” said Ruby.  “I know Granny’s looking for someone to clean this place up later.  I said no, I plan on getting wasted, but it’s double the usual wage.”

“Right,” said Lacey, putting aside her own plan to get steaming drunk.  “Well, okay.  I could do that.”

“Great, I’ll tell her!” said Ruby enthusiastically.  “Pretty sure she was gonna order me to do it if I couldn’t find some other sucker!”

Lacey shot her a look at that, and Ruby grinned.

“Oh - you have to put these on,” she said then, rummaging beneath the bar and coming up with a set of antlers identical to her own.

“Ruby, come on!” said Lacey.  “I don’t think antlers are what this outfit was missing.”

“No no, the antlers are  _essential_ ,” insisted Ruby, setting them on her head and beaming as she leaned back.  “See?  Awesome!”

Lacey caught a glimpse of herself in a nearby mirror and sighed, trying not to grin.  She could handle looking ridiculous.  It wasn’t as though it would be the first time that evening, after all.

* * *

By the time nine-thirty came, Lacey had had enough.  She didn’t want to get drunk if she had to help with the clean-up, and so she limited herself to feeling pleasantly tipsy as she watched the rest of the party-goers drink and dance.  It was strange; she had been looking forward to the party for weeks, and now she just wanted to be somewhere else.  Perhaps it was guilt, over hurting Gold.  She wondered how he was.  Whether he was nursing his leg and a glass of whisky.  Whether he would be alone all Christmas Eve.

She swallowed the last of her drink, banging her glass down on the bar, and went to find her coat.  Gold would be getting a visitor, whether he wanted one or not.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: 23: “You can’t be alone on Christmas Eve”

********Lacey walked quickly, without really thinking about what she was doing or where she was going.  The snow had started to fall again, and she pushed her chin down into the cowl of her sweater, tugging her coat around herself a little tighter and wishing she had worn something thicker.  Snow lay in a thick blanket on the sidewalks, a scatter of human and animal prints running in trails over the pristine white.  She followed a set of dog’s footprints as far as it went before she had to turn off onto the road out of town.  Onto the road where Gold’s house stood.

She stood at the end of his path, looking up at the house.  In the daylight it was a salmon pink colour, the porch and windows painted in sea-green.  She had always thought it a strange colour combination for Gold, with his penchant for dark suits.  Although he did wear coloured shirts, she supposed.  Idly, she wondered what shade his underwear was.

Grinning to herself, she started up the path, stepping carefully on the fresh snow, but reaching the porch without incident.  There were lights on in the house, so she was fairly certain that he would still be awake.  It was approaching ten, so pretty late to be visiting, but the booze had made her reckless, and so she knocked on the door.  It took a minute or so for him to emerge, a formless mass of shadows growing and stretching behind the rippled glass of the door, and he opened it up, staring out at her with his mouth set in a flat line and his brows drawn down.  He was still in his suit pants, but his tie was off, his shirt unbuttoned at the neck.

“Hey,” said Lacey, and his frown deepened.

“What on  _earth_ are you wearing?”

For a moment Lacey was puzzled, but his eyes were looking above her, and she hurriedly snatched the light-up antlers from her head. _Stupid things! Thanks a lot, Rubes._

“I just thought I’d see how you were.”

“Well, I’m still alive,” he said dryly.  “No thanks to you.”

“Yeah.”  She shifted from foot to foot.  “Sorry about that.”

There was silence for a moment, and he looked her up and down insolently.

“I see you’ve changed,” he remarked.  “Strange.  That last outfit seemed so practical.”

She ignored his barb.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t walk across the room without being leered at,” she said airily.  “Decided on the safer option.  Besides, I have to go back and clean up once the party’s over, and at least my boobs don’t fall out of this thing when I bend over.”

Gold’s eyebrows had climbed almost into his hair, and she wished she could just stop babbling.

“How’s your leg?” she asked, earning another frown.

“It hurts like hell,” he said, in a flat tone.  “Fortunately, whisky takes the edge off.”

“Right.”  She chewed her lip, uncertain of what else to say, then raised her chin.  “Can I come in?”

Gold looked suspicious.

“Why?”

“Because…”  She tried to think of a decent reason beyond the fact that he was in pain and she felt guilty.  “You can’t be alone on Christmas Eve.”

“Really?” he said sarcastically.  “My my, I really must go back in time over the last two decades and tell my past selves they’re performing a miracle.”

“Don’t be such a  _jerk_!” she snapped.  “I just meant - I just meant you don’t have to be, that’s all.”

Gold raised an eyebrow, leaning against the door.

“So not satisfied with injuring me in my own shop, you’ve decided to bring the fight to my house?”

“I don’t want to fight!” she insisted.  “I feel terrible about what happened, okay? You were right, I was - I was trying to wind you up.  I just thought I could give you an unwanted boner or something.  Didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

Gold’s eyebrows shot up at the words ‘unwanted boner’.  It made her want to giggle.

“Sorry,” she added.  “I really am.”

Gold sighed heavily.

“Well, I suppose I accept your apology in the spirit in which it was offered,” he said, still managing to make it sound like an insult.  “Would you like a drink?”

He turned away without waiting for an answer, limping off, and Lacey followed him in and shut the door.  Music was playing, something soothing and classical, and she looked around herself with interest as he led her into a comfortable lounge, with antique furniture in shining dark wood and upholstery in tones of green, brown and deep red.  The walls were a dusky pink, like the outside of the house, and the overall effect was cosy and welcoming.  If unexpected.  A fire burned in the large hearth, and Gold crossed to a small cabinet, on which sat several bottles of spirits.

“What would you like?” he asked, as she shrugged off her coat.

“I’ll have what you’re having.”

He nodded, getting out a heavy-bottomed glass for her, and pouring a measure of whisky for them both.  Lacey looked around herself, unsure of where to sit, but he gestured to the couch in front of her, and she took a seat, nodding her thanks as he gave her the whisky.

“How come you don’t have a Christmas tree?” she asked.

“Because I never do.”

“How come?”

“Because I don’t celebrate.”

“How come?”

Gold sighed, letting his head roll back and looking exasperated.

“That’s not something I care to discuss.”

“Okay…”  She pulled a face, taking a drink.  “Didn’t realise having a little festive fun was so bloody controversial.”

Gold shot her a flat look, shaking his hair back as he raised his glass.

“Do I look as though I’m the type to want to indulge in - frivolity?”

He spoke the word with distaste, as though it were somehow dirty.  It made her want to roll her eyes, but she decided to ignore his dour tone.

“Not usually,” she observed.  “But sometimes it’s good to string some lights and get some colour in the place.  Brightens things up.  I find I kind of need that in the depths of winter.  Wasn’t that what the old Midwinter festival was about?  Welcoming in the light on the darkest day?”

“I hardly think filling my home with cheap plastic decorations is going to usher in a season of goodwill,” he remarked.

“Well, not with that attitude.”

She took a sip of her whisky, frustrated with him, and Gold eyed her in silence.  It stretched out, no sound but for the crackle of the fire and the low ticking of the clocks, and she folded an arm across her belly, as though she was protecting herself.  She felt annoyed, and oddly nervous, and she sipped at her drink again, wanting to finish it and get out of there.

“I’m sorry,” said Gold eventually, surprising her.  “I’m sure you were only trying to help.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, taking another drink and not looking at him.

“Alright.”

There was more silence.  Lacey had crossed her legs, and was bouncing one foot in irritation.  She could see him out of the corner of one eye, watching her over the rim of his glass.  He looked pretty good with his collar open and a little skin showing, and the thought of what he might keep buttoned up beneath the suit intrigued her more than it probably should.  Especially given that he was a rude, miserable bastard with no sense of fun.

“You said you were cleaning up after the party,” he said then.  “Why?”

Lacey shrugged.

“Someone has to,” she said.  “Granny’s paying double, and I need all the cash I can get.  Wasn’t sure if you’d still want me to come and clean after what happened today.”

“I always honour my agreements,” he said stiffly.  “You can clean until the debt is paid.  Just wear something appropriate to cleaning a shop, rather than running a festive-themed internet porn site.”

“You know, if you’d played your cards right, you could have had me dress up as a slutty nurse and give you a leg massage,” she said.  “Your loss, I guess.”

He looked mildly amused by that.

“A second attempt to give me another unwanted boner?”

“If at first you don’t succeed…”

She raised her glass.  There was a glint in his eyes.

“Well, much as I admire your dedication to the task, I really have no desire to be the subject of gossip amongst your friends, thank you.”

“I have better things to do than talk about you, Gold.”

“The fact that you’re here rather than having fun elsewhere would suggest otherwise.”

Lacey scowled at him.

“I’m willing to bet my life is  _way_  more fun than yours.”

“Ah yes,” he said, rolling his eyes.  “An endless cycle of working too many hours in a job you hate, followed by drinking yourself into oblivion and then waking with a hangover to go through the whole pointless process again, with no plan or desire to get out of the hole you find yourself in.  I’m practically  _green_  with envy.”

“Is that better or worse than sitting alone in a big old house surrounded by a bunch of crap that doesn’t make you happy?”

His eyes narrowed.

“If you’re so repelled by the way I live, you know where the door is.”

“Hey, I came over here as a favour, okay?” she snapped.  “Excuse me for being concerned for your damn  _welfare_!”

“Please, don’t let me keep you from another evening of inebriation in whichever local bar you choose to frequent,” he said, in a bored voice.  “I’m sure sitting here drinking my whisky is holding you back from making yet another poor life choice.”

“Screw you, Gold.”

“I’ll pass, thank you.”

He took a drink, and she set down her glass with a clunk, pushing to her feet and grabbing her coat.

“Well, I guess I’d better get back to my pointless existence,” she said.  “Careful not to fall down the stairs under the weight of your own misery, okay?”

She pulled on the coat, stomping to the door and not looking back.  Her Christmas spirit could only stretch so far.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: 43, “You know Santa doesn’t come until midnight, right?”

Gold listened to the door slam as Lacey left his house, and slid down a little in his chair, curling his lip.   _Good bloody riddance._

Except it wasn’t good riddance.  She had come over to apologise, had done so repeatedly, and he had been an arse in return.  It was no more than he usually did with anyone else in town, of course, but a familiar and unwelcome feeling began to creep up his body and burrow into his chest.  He realised that he felt guilty, and grumbled under his breath.  If he was feeling guilty, it meant he had an obligation, and he  _hated_ feeling obligated.

He stretched over to pick up the phone, dialling the number with his thumb as he sipped at his drink.  The line rang a few times before there was a click on the other end, and the voice of Dove greeted him.

“Any progress?” asked Gold.

“A surprising amount,” said Dove.  “Or perhaps not so surprising.  For someone who always pleads poverty, Keith Nott has a large nest egg when the right pressure is applied.  I’ve recovered nine hundred dollars.  There may be more in the next few days.”

Gold raised his eyebrows.

“That’s impressive.”

“I was - particularly inventive, sir.”

Gold grinned at that.

“Nothing you could get in trouble for, I trust?”

“Nothing physical, sir, no.”

“Good man,” said Gold.  “Take two hundred for yourself, plus anything more you can recover.  I’ll take six hundred next time you see me, there’s no need to make a special visit out here.”

“Thank you, sir.  And the rest?”

Gold rolled his eyes.   _I must be going bloody soft._

“Give the remaining hundred to Lacey French,” he said.  “Tell her she doesn’t need to return to her cleaning duties.  Her debt to me is paid.”

“Understood, sir.”

Gold hung up, putting the phone down on the little table next to him and settling back in his chair.  It was done.  She owed him nothing, and he wouldn’t have to see her again beyond ordering a coffee at Granny’s.  A perfect outcome.  He swilled the whisky in his glass, contemplating pouring another.  It wouldn’t hurt.

* * *

Lacey stomped back to the diner in high dudgeon, arms pumping and breath huffing out as she went.   _Bloody man!  Who the hell does he think he is?  I go over there and miss out on a bloody party to apologise and try to make amends, and he speaks to me like I’m nothing but shit beneath his shoes!_

She drew to a halt on the sidewalk outside the diner, catching her breath and trying to calm herself.  Walking in there with a face like thunder wasn’t going to make what was left of the party any fun at all.

“Screw him!” she said aloud.  “Miserable bastard!”

“Miss French?”

Lacey almost jumped out of her skin as a tall figure loomed out of the swirling snow, a bald head atop a long black overcoat.  Mr Dove, Gold’s henchman.  Or enforcer, she supposed, although he’d always been polite to her.  Just as Gold had been.  Up until tonight, of course.

“Hey,” she said.  “You collecting rent on Christmas Eve?  Wow, Gold really has started channelling the essence of Scrooge, huh?”

Dove shook his head, reaching inside his overcoat with a black-gloved hand.  He withdrew a handful of bills, holding them out to her, and Lacey took them, curious.  Five twenty-dollar bills, crumpled into her hand.

“What’s this?” she asked.  “Extra tips for doing such a great job bringing your coffee?”

“I already tip you,” he said, with a tiny smile.

“Yeah, very well too, which is why I always give you the best brownies,” she remarked.  “So what gives?  Early Christmas present?  You know Santa doesn’t come until midnight, right?”

Dove shifted his feet, letting out a tiny sigh.

“Mr Gold says that you do not need to return to your cleaning duties,” he said, in his low, calm voice.  “Your debt to him is paid.”

“My - hey wait!”

Dove had turned away, and Lacey bounced on her toes, clutching the money.

“I don’t understand,” she said.  “I owed  _him_.  How come he’s giving me money?”

“I didn’t ask.”

Lacey looked down at the money in her hands, and then held it out to Dove.

“I don’t want it,” she said firmly.  “You tell him he can keep his charity and his crappy apology, okay?”

Dove shrugged.

“I don’t work for you, Miss French,” he said.  “Good evening to you.  And Merry Christmas.”

With that he gave a slight bow, and wandered off into the night, the thick snow swallowing him up.  Lacey glared after him.

“If this is Gold’s way of clearing his conscience, he can bite me!” she shouted.  “You tell him that!”

There was no response, and she stamped her foot and turned towards the diner, stuffing the dollars into her pocket.  Gold and his weird non-apologies could wait.  She still had a diner to clean.

* * *

The party ran on for another hour after she returned to the diner, but Lacey found she couldn’t enjoy it.  She kept looking over the hundred dollars in her pocket, wondering what Gold meant by it.  Why was her debt cleared?  Why had he given her money?  She took a swig of her drink, scowling at the party-goers heedlessly spilling beer and dropping chips and nachos everywhere.   _I’m gonna have to clean that up, you dicks!_

Eventually the party wound down, and everyone began filing out of the diner, some more than a little worse for wear.  Ruby was amongst the drunkest of them, stopping to give Lacey a hug and a moist kiss on the cheek.

“I’d stay and help you clean,” she slurred.  “But I think I might throw up.”

“Go to bed,” said Lacey firmly.  “I got this.”

“You’re a star,” said Ruby fervently, wagging a finger.  “A  _star,_  you hear me?”

“Bed!” said Lacey, and Ruby giggled, staggering away to the back stairs that led to the inn.

Lacey shook her head, glancing around the diner, now empty except for dirty glasses and plates and discarded food.  She sighed, reaching behind the bar for one of the aprons and tying it around her waist.   _This is gonna be a nightmare._

* * *

Lacey found that cleaning the place took less time than she thought, her own irritation lending her some energy.  She had soon cleared away all the dirty glasses and plates and the leftover food, wiped down all the surfaces, and was sweeping up as her final task.  She had just chased several chips out from beneath one of the tables when a face at the window made her yelp in surprise and drop her broom.

“Jesus!” she snapped.

Gold shook his head, and Lacey put her hands on her hips, scowling as he gestured at the door.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded, as she wrenched it open.  He stepped inside with a flurry of snow, dusting flakes from his sleeves.

“Dove informed me of your message,” he said.  “Something about not accepting my apology.”

She bent to grasp the broom, straightening up.

“That’s because I didn’t get one,” she said bluntly.  “I got a cryptic message and one hundred bucks.  What’s the deal?”

Gold shrugged wearily.  Lacey thought that he looked more tired than usual, his eyes heavy and his face drawn.  He was also not wearing a tie, the collar of his shirt still open and visible beneath the scarf he wore.  It was the most dishevelled she had ever seen him in public, which was - interesting.

“I decided to take a punt on your I.O.U.s,” he said.  “Not a great return, but I won’t lose by it.  And you get an additional hundred on top of the six I gave you.”

“I was owed two grand,” she said.

Gold took a step towards her, his gaze darkening a little, and she licked her lips.

“Don’t push it, Miss French,” he said quietly.  “You no longer owe me anything, and you have one hundred dollars in your pocket.  That should be enough.”

Lacey shrugged.

“Okay,” she said.  “Thanks, I guess.”

She started sweeping again, brushing crumbs and balled-up napkins and tortilla chips into a pile.  Gold was off to the side, almost out of her line of sight, but she could feel him watching her, and she straightened up with a sigh.

“What?”

His mouth twitched, his fingers flexing on the cane handle.

“I - ah - I wasn’t my best self this evening,” he said.

“You were a dick.”

She carried on sweeping, and silence grew between them.  Lacey pressed her lips shut, determined not to be the one to break it after he had rebuffed her so completely.  She heard Gold sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually.  “I’m in a lot of pain, and it - well, I’m afraid to say that it makes me deeply unpleasant.”

“Got that right.”

“I hadn’t taken any pain relief,” he added.  “Mostly because I felt like getting drunk and the two don’t really go together.”

Lacey grounded her broom, straightening up to look at him.

“Anyway, I’m sorry,” he said.  “You were kind to come over to check on me, and I was - well, to use your turn of phrase, I was a dick.”

She huffed in amusement, and looked him up and down.  As apologies went, it wasn’t too bad, she supposed.

“You still want to get drunk?” she asked, nodding towards the bar, and Gold pulled a face.

“Not sure I want to try to stagger home in this weather,” he said.  “Perhaps just the one.”

“Coming right up,” she said.  “Take a seat.  I think I’ll join you.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @anonymousnerdgirl prompted: "Sprite my buddy, my pal, my dude. I want an NSFW Golden Lace fic in which they get it on in a deserted Granny's. "It looks like we're snowed in"
> 
> @anonymous prompted: 32: "Is that a candy cane in your pocket"

The diner was clean and dimly lit, the only illuminations those behind the bar and the Christmas lights still strung around the place, and the jukebox was playing a variety of Christmas tunes at a fairly low volume. Gold hadn’t complained about the music, which Lacey was counting as a win, and she was in no hurry to head home to her cold apartment.  The weather had taken a turn for the worse; snow was gusting against the windows, the wind whining outside when Lacey went to lock the door, and she shivered, glancing out at the empty streets before dropping her keys in her bag, setting it on the bar and taking her seat again.

“Anyone out there?” he asked.

“Not a soul,” she said, and he grunted, taking a sip of his drink.

Lacey had found that Gold was reasonably good company when the pain in his leg was mellowed by whisky, however rough a brand Granny sold (and boy, had he complained about  _that_  until she poured him another and told him to shut up).  She herself was pleasantly tipsy, having drunk several gins and a rum and coke, and the two of them were seated at the bar, elbows almost touching.  

“I should really get home,” said Gold, at last.  “I was only going to have one, remember?”

“Yeah, but doesn’t it feel better now you’ve had three?” she asked, and he wrinkled his nose.

“Four, but who’s counting?”

“Not me, that’s for sure,” she said.  “It’s Christmas Eve, Gold.  Live a little.  What do you have to get up for in the morning?”

“Nothing, I suppose,” he admitted.  “What about you?  Christmas dinner for one, or do you actually have plans?”

Lacey sighed.

“Guess not,” she said.  “Just gonna be me, the contents of my fridge and a ton of booze.  Ruby said I could always come over to Granny’s for dinner, but I kind of feel like I’m intruding on family time, you know?”

“Oh believe me, I know,” he said quietly, and drained his glass.

She glanced across at him, chewing at her lower lip as she debated asking him something.  Gold caught her eye, his brows raising in the middle to give him a somewhat weary expression.

“Go on, then,” he sighed.

“What?” she asked.  “You want another drink?”

“No,” he said.  “Well yes, but that’s not what I meant.”

Lacey slipped off her stool again, going around the back of the bar to pour them both another.

“What is it?” she asked, letting a stream of whisky run into his glass.

“You looked as though you wanted to ask me something,” he said, and she hesitated.

“Yeah.”

“So go ahead.”

“You won’t get mad?”

“Oh, I can’t promise that,” he said, in a dry tone.  “But I’m feeling more melancholy than mad right now, so knock yourself out.”

“Okay.”

She poured her own measure of whisky, then turned her back and used the palms of her hands to boost herself up onto the bar before spinning around to face him, letting her legs dangle over the edge next to him.  She caught Gold having a sneaky look, but she wasn’t about to begrudge him that considering she’d spent the afternoon trying to flash him.

“You said you didn’t celebrate Christmas,” she said.  “How come?”

He sighed, tapping his fingers against his glass as he stared into his drink.

“Not much to celebrate when you’re alone,” he said.

“I’m alone,” she said.  “Still decking the damn halls and being as jolly as I can.”

“Yes, but you have people around that love you,” he said, and bit his lip, looking awkward.  “I - I lost the only person I loved.  My son, Neal.”

“Oh.”  Lacey wriggled a little on the bar.  “I’m - I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, he’s not dead,” he added, which made her feel a little better.  “Just - well, maybe I’m dead to him, I suppose.  He doesn’t speak to me anymore.  Hasn’t in years.  His mother saw to that.”

Lacey wrinkled her nose.

“Man, family break-ups always suck,” she said, with feeling.  “Your ex got custody, I guess?”

“Not entirely,” he said.  “We split up when Neal was four.  I would have taken him, but Milah - my ex - insisted on me seeing him only every other weekend.  I’m almost certain she only did it because she knew it would hurt me. I wanted to push for more, but - well, in those days I didn’t have the resources I have now.  Or the ruthless streak.”

“Still,” said Lacey.  “You did what most fathers do when there’s a break-up, right?  I mean, it takes two people to make a separation work for the kid.  It’s not just on you.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not how Neal felt,” he said.  “And honestly, it’s not how I felt.  I should have done more, fought harder.  I should have done whatever it took to see more of him.  I’ve no idea how she treated him, but he grew colder and colder and in the end, he said he didn’t want to see me again.” 

“Ouch,” said Lacey, with a wince, and Gold shrugged.

“Oh, I daresay he has his reasons,” he said.  “I just don’t know what they were, and he wouldn’t let me ask.  It’s been almost ten years now.  I write, send cards and things, but he never answers.”

“Sorry,” said Lacey.  “Ever thought about reaching out in person?  Maybe now he’s older…”

Gold shook his head.

“I don’t want to push it,” he said.  “He knows where I am.  I’m hoping he’ll come around.”

“Let’s hope so.”  She took a drink, swinging her legs.  “You know, I don’t talk to my dad either.”

“You don’t?”

“Nah.”  She put down her glass, glowering.  “He was an abusive bastard.  My mother refused to leave him, and when she died he kind of took it out on me.  Couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”

“Oh.”  His mouth flattened.  “I’m sorry, that’s terrible.  Does he live around here?”

“Down in Boston, last I heard,” she said gloomily.  “Assuming he hasn’t already drunk himself into an early grave.  He’s not exactly on my Christmas card list.”

“Ah.”  He nodded slowly, and took another drink.  “You know, I could always send Mr Dove down there.  He’s very effective.”

Lacey giggled.

“Are you asking me if I want to take out a hit on my dad?”

“Of course not,” he said blandly.  “That would be illegal and wrong.  And I absolutely wouldn’t offer you a discount.”

She laughed harder.

“Oh, trust me, I’m tempted,” she said.  “But he’s not worth it.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Lacey grinned, and took another slurp of whisky, coughing as it burned her throat.  Gold was watching her, dark eyes calculating, and she waited for him to say whatever was on his mind.  He was very attractive with his collar open and his hair a little mussed, and she couldn’t help thinking that he would look like that in the morning after a wild night of passion.  Coloured lights flashed in the windows, casting an almost eerie light on his skin and making the shadows of his eyes and cheeks deeper and darker, the line of his nose a little stronger.  He licked his lips, one flick of his pink tongue, and she felt a low pull of desire deep within her.  It was a pleasant sensation, and one she didn’t mind indulging in the privacy of her own mind.  Even if he wasn’t remotely interested in her that way.  Too bad, really.

“Can I ask you something?” he said then, and she shrugged.

“Fire away.”

“The other night when you first came to the shop,” he said.  “You seemed to think I was offering to pay you money to sleep with me.  Did you really think I’d do that?”

Lacey winced.

“Hey look, sorry,” she said guiltily.  “I realise it wasn’t one of my finest moments, okay?  I don’t really think you’re a creep, it’s just - well, it’s just that I was desperate, and I thought it’d be easy money.”

Gold almost choked on his whisky, staring at her.

“So - so you’d have done it?” he said disbelievingly.

“Well - yeah,” she said bluntly.  “Why not?  You’re a good-looking guy, and kind of interesting when you’re not being an arsehole, and I watch how careful you are with everything you handle.  I figured you’re probably good in bed.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Thank goodness I’m a slightly better man than you took me for,” he remarked.  “I’d hate to be the cause of disappointment.”

“See, now you’re just trying to make me curious again.”

Gold laughed harder, his eyes twinkling, and she grinned at him.  The smile fell from his face as their eyes met, and Lacey felt her heart thump in her throat, that low-down tug making her squeeze her thighs together.  He licked his lips again.

“Well,” he said.  “Good thing you no longer owe me any money.”

“A very good thing,” she agreed, and he nodded, turning back to his whisky.

“Now I can ask you without it being weird,” she added, and he looked up with a start.

“What?”

Lacey sighed.

“Like you said,” she explained.  “Now I don’t owe you anything.  So if I ask you to kiss me, it’s not because of some ulterior motive, right?”

Gold was silent for a moment.  He swallowed hard.

“Are - are you gonna ask me?”

“Maybe.”  She put down her glass, shifting across the bar a little until she was in front of him, knees pressed together and feet either side of his legs.  “Do you want to kiss me, Gold?”

He let his eyes travel up her legs, sweeping back and forth as they reached her body until they met her own.  The tip of his tongue darted out again, moistening the soft swell of his lower lip.  He looked nervous, and it was almost adorable.  She smiled.

“Do you want to kiss me?” she repeated, her voice a low purr, and he nodded.

“Yes,” he whispered.

She shifted forward a little, bending her head until their noses touched, her breath quickening as she caught the scent of his cologne.  One hand lifted, his fingertips running over her cheek, and she could feel his cool breath on her lips as she tilted her head to kiss him.  His mouth was soft and warm against hers, his lips yielding to the pressure, and she let out a tiny moan as his tongue slipped into her mouth, the heat of whisky on it.  His fingers pushed into her hair, sending shivers through her, and she shifted closer, sliding forward on the bar, her legs either side of him.

He let his hands drop to her knees, thumbs slipping between them and pushing them apart as his palms slid up her thighs, and Lacey gasped into his mouth, her hands sinking into the softness of his hair.  He let out a low groan that went straight to her groin, and she slipped from the bar onto his lap, straddling him as the kiss grew messy and frantic.  Gold was breathing heavily through his nose, his hands sliding around her back and tugging her close against him, and Lacey moaned as she felt the hard length of him through his pants, rubbing against her core.  She pulled her mouth from his, lips brushing over wet skin as she tried to catch her breath, and her eyes flicked upwards.

“Is that a candy cane in your pocket?” she whispered, and he grinned wickedly.

“Certainly not.”

“Good.”  She let the tip of her tongue trace the inner walls of his lips before nudging his nose with hers.  “Doesn’t mean I won’t be sucking on it later.”

“ _Fuck_ , Lacey!” he growled, and kissed her again, harder, more desperate.

She managed to get his jacket open, sliding her hands inside over his chest, feeling the heat of him through the thin silk and the buds of his nipples.  Rubbing her thumbs over them made him growl, and so she pulled her lips from his, kissing along his jaw and down his throat to where his shirt gaped open.  Gold let his head roll back with a gasp, hands clenching in her hair as her tongue swept over his skin.  He smelt good, of woody, spicy cologne and musk, and she wanted to kiss on down, to trail her mouth over his chest and belly and explore the rest of him.  To take his cock in her mouth and suck until he lost his mind.

She rocked her hips, rubbing against him, knowing it was exciting him as much as her, and kissed up the other side of his neck, biting down a little and pulling a low rumble of pleasure from him.  Her mouth found his ear, and she flicked at it with her tongue, feeling him shiver at the feel of her breath.

“Touch me,” she whispered.

Gold put his hands on her waist, pushing her back from him a little, and she held onto his shoulders as his hands slid between them, up beneath the hem of her sweater dress.  He pushed it up, over her breasts, thumbs tugging down the cups so that they spilled out, and bent his head, his hands gripping her rear and tugging her closer so that his mouth could fasten on a nipple.  Lacey moaned, pushing into him, his lips and tongue sending sensations coursing through her body.  He kissed across to the other breast, lips sucking, tongue swirling, and his hands dipped between her legs again, grasping the tights she wore.  There was a sound of tearing fabric, and Lacey moaned as he rent a hole in them, a hole big enough for his hand to reach inside, fingers pushing beneath the edge of her panties.

Fingers flickered, sliding through her folds and releasing a rush of slippery fluid, and Gold let out a groan of pleasure, stroking her.  Lacey let out a cry, clutching at his shoulders as she lifted herself a little to let his finger enter her.  Gold kissed up her neck, sucking on her flesh, biting gently as he pushed deep.

“God, you feel incredible!” he breathed.  “I want to get inside you, Lacey!”

She moaned as his thumb brushed her clit, tilting her hips to push against his hand, and he stroked her, his finger sliding in and out of her.

“You wanna get out of here?” she asked breathlessly.

“Not yet,” he whispered.  “First I need you to come.”

His thumb swirled over her clit again, and she let her head roll back as the sensations washed over her.  It felt incredible, and she squeezed her thighs around his, lifting a little to push against his hand, fingers stroking through his hair.  Her breath was coming hard in her chest, and she rocked back and forth as he kept up his rhythm, stroking and thrusting and rubbing.  She was close, her breath quickening, cheeks flushing with pleasure as his thumb slipped through wet flesh, and she came with a cry, fingers twisting in his hair.

Gold let out a growl at the feel of her, his fingers still pushing inside her, and Lacey tried to catch her breath, panting a little as she licked sweat from her upper lip.  She kissed him hard, her tongue stabbing into his mouth as his stubble scraped her chin, and he slowly drew out his fingers as she settled back on his lap.  Lacey watched, locking eyes with him as he slipped them one by one into his mouth, a low, rumbling groan coming from him at the taste of her.

“That was pretty incredible,” she said, her voice unsteady, and he sent her a dark smile, his eyes glinting.

“Indeed.”

The bliss was fading, but her arousal had only increased with his touch, and she tugged at his belt buckle, getting it open and unfastening his pants.  She wanted more.  She wanted to feel him inside her.  Gold’s breathing hardened as she reached inside his pants, her fingers stroking against silk, trailing along the hard shaft of his cock and making him gasp.  Lacey bent to kiss his neck, and he let his head roll back, exposing the length of his throat for her lips and tongue.  She licked at him, tongue sweeping over salty skin and feeling the rough rasp of his stubble, and her fingers worked their way inside his underwear, wrapping around hard, hot flesh and squeezing.  Her lips brushed his ear.

“Fuck me,” she whispered, and he chuckled hoarsely.

“Condom?”

“Oh - right.”

She reached to the side, one hand scrabbling for her bag, and tugged it towards her so that she could retrieve one of the condoms she always kept there.  Lacey tore it open with her teeth, fumbling a little as she rolled it on, and shifted forwards, lifting herself up off his lap and guiding him inside her.  She sank down onto him with a gasp, and Gold let out a long groan of pleasure as he filled her.

“God, that feels good!”

Lacey pressed her brow to his and sat quietly for a moment, getting used to the feel of him inside her and listening to the ragged sound of his breathing.  She clenched her muscles, squeezing hard to feel the girth of him, making him hiss an expletive through his teeth.  Her hands were in his hair, soft strands slipping through her fingers, and she met his eyes, kissing him gently as she began to rock slowly back and forth, feeling him slide in and out of her.  There was friction from his clothing rubbing against her, and from his hair and her fluids, and she closed her eyes, letting the sensations build, concentrating on the hardness of him and his hands on her body and the feel of his lips at her throat.

One arm had gone around her waist, pulling her tight against him, and she moaned as the friction increased, her pace quickening, her hips bucking as she worked.  Her belly was aching with the strain of it, with fucking him hard and fast, and she could hear her breath coming in pants and the low, rhythmic groans from deep within him.

“Lacey,  _please_!”

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze, seeing the desperation in it, and she clamped down, squeezing his cock with her body, tugging at it.  His eyes rolled back in his head as he let out a low cry, and she felt him pulse inside her as he came hard.  The sensation made her see stars, and she cried out as she followed him, pumping her hips, pushing up against him as he bit down into her neck.

Bliss seemed to pour over her body, making her skin tingle and her heart thump hard, and she slowed her pace, trying to catch her breath, fingers dropping to his shoulders to clutch at him and keep her balance.  Gold’s breathing was hard and ragged, his head drooping a little, and she put a finger under his chin and lifted his head to meet his eyes.

“There,” she murmured.  “I said you’d be good in bed.”

He sent her a sleepy-eyed grin.

“We’re not in bed.”

“Oh good,” she said.  “That means you still have something to prove.”

Gold chuckled at that, looking deeply amused, and reached up to stroke her hair back from her face, a tenderness in his eyes that she had never seen before.  He kissed her gently: lips, nose and forehead, and settled back on the stool, his other arm still around her waist.

“Will you come home with me?” he asked, and she raised an eyebrow.

“You’re asking me to stay the night?”

“If you want.”

Lacey smiled.

“Yeah,” she said.  “I want.”

* * *

Christmas Day dawned bright and cold, sunlight sparkling off the fresh fall of snow, and Lacey shivered a little as she looked out of the window, nursing a cup of coffee between cupped hands.  She was wearing one of Gold’s sweaters, rolled up at the sleeves and just covering her butt, and she gazed out of the bay window of his bedroom, enjoying the view of the snow-covered garden that stretched all the way to the woods.

“Come back to bed,” he said, from behind her.

She turned to see him sprawled on the bed in his silk robe, coffee in one hand and his hair awry.  He had a sleepy look in his dark eyes and a lopsided, somewhat dirty grin on his face.  As well he might, given the night they had had.  Lacey returned the grin, walking back to the bed with a sway in her step that made her hips swing and his eyes follow them.

“Well,” she said, setting down her cup.  “It looks like we’re snowed in.  Guess we’ll have to stay in bed.”

“Merry fucking Christmas to me,” he growled, reaching for her, and Lacey squealed as he pulled her back under the blankets.


End file.
